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5th P. M. 4 lines 7s. Calvary.
W God descend, in majesty,
To proclaim his holy law,
Lovely, mournful Calvary. 294
Are in the gospel found !
Who knows the joyful sound. 2 Poor, sinful, thirsty, fainting souls,
Are freely welcome here; Salvation, like a river, rolls,
Abundant, free, and clear. 3 Come, then, with all your wants and wounds;
Your every burden bring:
A deep, celestial spring.
May of this stream partake;
And drink, for Jesus' sake.
6 Millions of sinners, vile as you,
Have here found life and peace; Come, then, and prove its virtues too,
And drink, adore, and bless. 295
Convinced of guilt, with grief oppress'd,
We find no comfort there. 2 Not all our groans and tears,
Nor works which we have done, Nor vows, nor promises, nor prayers,
Can e'er for sin atone. 3 Relief alone is found
In Jesus' precious blood : 'Tis this that heals the mortal wound,
And reconciles to God.
And all our hopes arise
A spotless victim dies. 296
In a believer's ear;
And drives away his fear. 2 It makes the wounded spirit whole
And calms the troubled breast; 'Tis manna to the hungry soul,
And to the weary, rest. 3 Dear Name, the rock on which I build,
My shield and hiding-place; My never-failing-treasure, fill'd
With boundless stores of grace:
4 Jesus, my Shepherd, Saviour, Friend,
My Prophet, Priest, and King,
Accept the praise I bring.
With every fleeting breath; So shall the music of thy Name
Refresh my soul in death. 297
The wisdom coming from above,
Unmerited and free,
And help our misery. 2 Thou waitest to be gracious still ;
Thou dost with sinners bear; That, saved, we may thy goodness feel,
And all thy grace declare. 3 Thy goodness and thy truth to me, To
every soul, abound; A vast, unfathomable sea,
Where all our thoughts are drown'd. 4 Its streams the whole creation reach,
So plenteous is the store ; Enough for all, enough for each,
Enough forever more. 5 Faithful, O Lord, thy mercies are,
A rock that cannot move : A thousand promises declare
Thy constancy of love.
His goodness must endure. 299
L. M. Universal redemption. VINNERS, obey the heavenly call;
Your prison doors stand open wide: Go forth, for Christ hath ransom'd all,
For every soul of man hath died. . 2 'Tis his the drooping soul to raise;
To rescue all by sin oppress'd ; To clothe them with the robes of praise,
And give their weary spirits rest.
3 To help their grov'ling unbelief;
Beauty for ashes to confer; The oil of joy for abject grief;
Triumphant joy for sad despair. 4 To make them trees of righteousness,-
The planting of the Lord below; To spread the honour of his grace,
And on to full perfection go. 300
3d P. M. 4 6s & 2 Ss.
The jubilee trumpet.
The gladly-solemn sound;
To earth's remotest bound,
Hath full atonement made :
Ye mournful souls, be glad :
The all-atoning Lamb;
Throughout the world proclaim :
Your liberty receive,
And blest in Jesus live: